


Nobody's Got No Class

by orphan_account



Category: Revenge (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:33:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victoria tries to bond with Emily, over karaoke.  It goes about as well as you might think (perfectly okay...on the surface).  Emily's POV.</p><p>Spoilers up to (but not including) "Duress" (the midseason return episode).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody's Got No Class

Emily, who has to constantly remind herself, _Emily Thorne Emily Thorne Emily Thorne_ because the real Emily Thorne is running all over town, claiming Amanda Clarke as her name, is actually being courted by Victoria Grayson.  And she hasn’t found a way to make Real-Emily stop being Fake-Amanda, and Nolan is supposed to be helping but apparently all that bastard wants to do is suck cock, any cock, and Amanda-Emily is really starting to question Nolan’s proclaimed devotion to her and her cause and the memory of her father.  Meanwhile, the bitch who betrayed Emily's father is practically _flirting_ with Emily, trying to get her onstage to sing a fucking _duet_ of all things.

Meanwhile, Emily, and she is _forcing_ herself to be Emily Thorne at this point, is stuck in an endless round of fundraisers.  Jesus Christ, Emily knows that if Victoria would just figure out how to direct her energy and her money, humans would fucking control the goddamned _weather_ already.  But that would be of practical value, and the only person living in this weird Hamptons hothouse who has any sense of practical value is Emily herself, because even the blue collar guys, the guys who should have their values in place, guys like Jack and Declan, well they are absolutely hopeless cases, heads up their asses, endlessly chasing unattainable tail.

So now Emily is stuck at yet another fucking fundraiser, working the crowd, always working the crowd, but this is some goddamned karaoke deal, and the opportunity is to good to pass up (although it’s very easy to pass up Ashley, Emily’s agenda for tonight is not to further Ashley’s social climbing, Ashley can let her adorability and her English accent fend for their own goddamned selves tonight).  So when Victoria, so gracious, so icy, calls for a duet, Emily is all over that.  Victoria is, after all, going to be Emily’s mother-in-law at the rate Emily is conquering the Hamptons. And honestly, they are all so fucking easy it’s no wonder her father got steamrollered under them, but _thinking_ about her dad is counterproductive to _avenging_ her dad, and Emily has read _Hamlet_ , fucking  _memorized_ it, but it was always so obviously a “what not to do” manual that she can't watch it without thinking it's the best dark comedy _ever_.

So she’s standing up, holding hands with Victoria, which should feel cold and uncomfortable, but for a few seconds Emily allows herself to believe that everything is the manipulated truth she’s been putting into place for weeks now, that maybe Victoria isn’t the coldhearted snake who delivered Emily’s father to the prosecutors.  And, if she’s honest with herself, she’d like to enjoy this Victoria, the one who’s laughing while they set up their song, the one who is guarded but thinks Emily can save Victoria’s son from himself.

And Emily laughs along with Victoria, all the while thinking, _You bitch, you utter cunt, you picked up Dad and chewed him up and spat him out and ignored me all while you did it_.

But Emily and Victoria smile at each other, Emily loathing Victoria for what she did to David Clarke, because, seriously, did this bitch even think twice about throwing the entire Clarke family, as paltry as it may have seemed, to her husband’s wolves?

And if Victoria seems nervous, seems unsure, like Conrad has piled so many betrayals on top of betrayals (and really, Emily knows she was, however inadvertently, doing Victoria a fucking favor by revealing those betrayals), like Victoria is reaching out to anyone, even Emily, Emily who is clearly out to steal Victoria’s own goddamned _son_ from under her nose, well, Emily doesn’t care.  Because she can’t, she won’t, that’s not what she’s here for.

And the music starts for Emily’s and Victoria’s duet, and it’s a showtune, Emily thinks contemptuously, of course it’s a fucking _showtune_ because that’s what passes for “creative” and “funny” here in the Hamptons: a doyenne and her heiress apparent singing a showtune, a song written for a prisoner and her warden, in which they use vulgar language to decry the modern lack of decency.  Emily barely refrains from throwing up in her mouth as she takes the tiny, cheesy mike and starts to sing.

Jesus Christ, ain’t there no decency left. 

Indeed.  Right now, what Emily wants more than anything in the world is to be Velma Kelly in this duet, to spit out "Every girl is a _twat_ " and all Victoria's friends will giggle and fan themselves and never know that Emily means every word.

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone is wondering, the song Victoria and Emily are tacitly, bitterly negotiating over is "Class" by Kander and Ebb, from the musical "Chicago," performed by "Mama" Morton and Velma Kelly.


End file.
